


Presenteeism

by TheMadKatter13



Series: Word War of the Day 2016 [21]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, sick Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6882814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadKatter13/pseuds/TheMadKatter13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Day 21 (2016.01.21)</b>
</p><p><i>noun</i><br/>1. the practice of coming to work despite illness, injury, anxiety, etc., often resulting in reduced productivity.<br/>2. the practice of working long hours at a job without the real need to do so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presenteeism

**Author's Note:**

> Hey. I'm alive. My new job just doesn't let me write while working. Also, I'm woefully behind on this project, and I've only just finished January. So here's all of January. If one of these ships isn't your thing, I've left a list with links to each individual ship in the Series Notes.
> 
> Originally posted to tumblr 2016-03-08.

“And here I was, thinking you were a better king than one who would make their manservant work on their birthday,” Mithian murmured at his side with a sip of wine and a pointed look behind him.

Frowning in confusion, Arthur turned and almost knocked heads with Merlin, who was for some reason dipping in next to him to pour his wine. Merlin who was red-faced, sweating, and looking green to the gills.

“Merlin!” he hissed angrily. “What are you doing?”

Merlin pulled back, pouring wine on the table and nearly in Arthur’s lap, then turned to stare blankly at him.

“Pouring your wine, my lord,” he wheezed, tone that too-familiar combination of sarcasm and _‘Are you blind?’_ tone any other man would have been executed for using when speaking to any other king.

“You’re sicker than a dog and I told you George would serve me tonight,” Arthur snapped, his control tested in his anger and his need to keep the interaction as quiet as he could to avoid the attention of his courtiers.

“George,” Merlin scoffed, shooting a glare to the man hovering of to the side of the table, looking distressed at his inability to serve. “ _I’m_ yours, not _George_.” His declaration was promptly ruined by a coughing fit that dumped the rest of the wine of the floor. “ _I’m_ to be serving you. Especially on you birthday,” he continued, completely oblivious to the mess he’d made.

Arthur sighed. “Merlin, you are dismissed. That is an _order_. Return to my rooms and I’ll deal with you when the feast is over.”

Merlin stared at him for a minute longer, a minute filled with the his brows slowly inching inward into one spectacular scowl. Finally, he snapped up straight and _thunk_ ed the wine vase on the table, loud enough to rattle the dishes and gain the attention of several of the nearby court.

Without another word, Merlin stomped away into the shadows. Resisting the urge to rub the bridge between his eyes where a headache was forming, Arthur turned back to an amused-looking Mithian and promptly knocked, somehow, his entire plate into his lap. He sighed again and resigned himself to a row at the end of the evening.

Despite the mild anxiety that stayed with Arthur throughout the dinner at the thought of the fight that was sure to be awaiting him when he got back to his rooms, Arthur found Merlin passed out in front of the hearth when he barred his rooms for the evening.

The idiot was sweating, but shivering, and looked wholly uncomfortable on the harsh bed of stone. With another sigh, another in an unending vein of aggravation, Arthur picked his manservant up and carried him over to Arthur’s bed. Leaving Merlin on the covers, Arthur shucked his boots and then changed for bed before spending far too long looking for Merlin’s bedclothes amongst the mess he’d left in the antechamber.

When Merlin had finally been changed, Arthur manhandled him under the covers before crawling in himself, pulling the shuddering form to his chest and into his arms.

“Now who’s the clotpole,” he whispered against a sweat-soaked temple. “Working when you’re this sick. I could have survived one night without you.”

“Still you,” Merlin surprised him by whispering back. “And you couldn’t last one hour without me.”

Arthur chuckled and held him tighter. “No, probably not.”

FINIS

**Author's Note:**

> 2016 10M WotD [Master Post](http://themadkatter13fanfiction.tumblr.com/10M-WotD-2016).
> 
> Like the thing? Reblog the [thing](http://themadkatter13fanfiction.tumblr.com/tagged/Presenteeism). Tschüß.


End file.
